


The Long Goodbye

by SPC_Snaptags



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha Female, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, F/M, Fucking, Knotting, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, omega male, references to warzone violence, very mild coercion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 14:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15820953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPC_Snaptags/pseuds/SPC_Snaptags
Summary: In three days, Jordan's Alpha will be on a plane to Afghanistan, again, and he's hysterical about it. Sam comforts him the best she can.





	The Long Goodbye

The duffel bag and rucksack that sat against the garage door had been packed and triple checked for almost a week, Sam’s list of required gear page after page of careful check marks. Jordan hated seeing them there, but Sam got anxious if she didn’t pack early. He got anxious when she did. It was an unpleasant situation for both of them. 

The last few days before a deployment were always hard. Sam got quiet and thoughtful, which made her distant at the time he needed her the most. He rarely asked what she did downrange, but when he did and she was in the mood to talk, he knew she was purposefully leaving out huge chunks of her stories. He always wondered what made her so closed-mouthed about flying Blackhawk helicopters--wasn’t it mostly transportation?--until she had gotten drunk one night and let it slip that she mostly did medevac escort and and that she had seen people die on the floor of her ‘hawk.

She vehemently denied it when she was sober but he knew down in his bones it was true. Knowing something of the real nature of her job had made him feel considerably less confident in the face of her next deployment. He didn’t know if he would feel better if she would talk to him about it or whether it was better if she didn't. She felt apart from him in a way none of his civilian friends felt about their Alphas, her job a part of herself that was a carefully guarded secret. Worse, he sometimes found her downstairs with another pilot, drinking and telling stories that she refused to tell him, loud and careless when they thought he was asleep. He couldn’t bear her being that comfortable with someone else when she kept him away.  

But on the other hand, Jordan had had a few spouse friends over the years, and one had confided in him, once, that when her Alpha had told her about what he really did in Afghanistan, it had almost destroyed their bond. She was horrified at his glibness, not to mention his actions themselves. In turn, he was both angry at her and remorseful, not over what he had done but that she was upset. It had taken more than a year to be comfortable around each other again. What if knowing changed how he thought about Sam?

His eyes smarted where the tears had started to gather. Why did she have to keep doing this? They had agreed that financially it was better for her to be in, and she  _ wanted _ to stay in because she loved flying, so intellectually he knew he was being unreasonable. But that didn’t stop his heart hurting, feeling so deeply that his Alpha was going to abandon him, like he was a third wheel in his own relationship and his Alpha ultimately served the Army before him.

He had never thought about the military much before her. It never occurred to him that he would get an Alpha who would want to serve so there was no point planning for it. His whole life had taken a dramatic turn in an unknown direction, and sometimes when he was alone he wondered what his life would have been like if he just hadn’t gone to that party senior year.

The host had pointed her out to him from across the room. He vaguely remembered her, maybe from an elective they had once taken together, not someone he had ever gotten to know. She was a young 21-year-old specialist, fresh back from her first deployment and home on block leave. He had stared at her for a moment--she looked different, much broader, taller by inches than every other Alpha in the room, and there was something unknown in her hard eyes and her aggressive stance. That she had grown up in a way he didn’t understand, maybe, or that she  _ knew _ she was the most alpha Alpha in the room and expected others to treat her that way. She was wearing a black shirt under a leather jacket and a pair of jeans so tight he could see the line of her cock under them.

But then he had been pulled away and had forgotten. It was later, after midnight, when he saw her again. Some of the guests had left and she seemed to be leading the group who were going to party the rest of the night. She was drinking directly out of a bottle of Maker’s Mark and was putting away an impressive amount as some other Alphas cheered.

She had taken off her jacket. He couldn’t look away from her--he had never seen muscle like that on anyone before. He had walked over to her as she took the bottle out of her mouth. She made a face and then, perhaps by chance, perhaps (as he would find out later) because she always watched, was always on guard, she noticed him.

He had always heard love stories about how True Mates would recognize the other immediately. He thought it was a bunch of nonsense, the idea that there was one perfect person for you out there. Especially the way it was shown in the movies his sisters watched, how the Alpha’s gaze would go blank (the way hers was) and their mouth drop open with the need to bite, the need to  _ mark _ (like hers was) and they would push people aside and come to you ( _ like she had). _

He had known, somewhere, that that would be it. Even before she was in front of him, and his nose filled up with musk and sweat. Her smell was like nothing he could ever have known and it did something to him that he had never felt before. Had never needed something, down in his bones, down beyond all rational thought, and he wanted, wanted, wanted. When she touched him---

She took him back to her hotel room and they didn’t leave for three days, and then it was only because her leave was over. By the end of the weekend she was a wreck, exhausted from fucking him into satiety even with her military training, hardly eating or drinking, insisting he take all of it. She was covered in bruises and bitemarks and a little bit of dried blood where he had scratched her. The room was so disgusting that when she finally left to go back to base, she had taken $200 out of her wallet and left it for the cleaning staff.

They had a torturous relationship for the next four months, until he graduated from high school. Calling and messaging each other as much as they could, phone sex only barely quenching their need for each other. And then he was 18, with a fresh diploma, and he had followed her ever since. 

From base to base. Her second, third, fourth deployment. Her promotion to sergeant and then, a year later, how her packet went through and she had gone back to training. Her graduation from Warrant Officer Candidate School to flight school, from flight school to flying Blackhawks. Her shiny new rank, first a warrant officer and then a chief warrant officer. 

Now she was heading off to deployment number five, her second to Afghanistan and third as a pilot. It never got easier.

He started as he felt her press against his back; he hadn’t heard her open the door. She wrapped her hand around his mouth and chin to tilt his head back. She was taller enough than him that when he leaned back his head fit neatly against her shoulder. “You’re panicking,” she said quietly.

He twisted around until he could tuck himself against her. Her hands dropped, one to cup his head, the other around his waist. She was solid, immovable, as he shivered with anxiety. 

“It’s fine,” she said against his hair. “It’ll be no different than any other deployment.”

“And I panicked before all the other ones, too,” he pointed out. 

“Wish you wouldn’t,” she said. He opened his mouth and she interrupted, “I know, I know. I’m just saying. I hate that you’re hurting.”

He tensed against her, his whole body fighting the words he wanted to say. That it was  _ her _ hurting him, that if she loved him enough she’d leave the Army when her contract was over and why wasn’t he enough for her? But what would that accomplish besides hurting her back? He didn’t want their last few days before she left to be a screaming match--they had done that before her first deployment they were together, and he had been sick with grief for months, horrified that if she died that would be the last memory he had of her.

He could stop the words but not the tears, and his shoulders shook as he cried quietly against her shoulder.

“Shh, baby,” she murmured into his ear, “baby, don’t cry…”

“I don’t want you to  _ leave _ ,” he sobbed.

“It’s only a year,” she said. “Just a year, you’ve done worse with me, remember when I was gone eighteen months? It won’t be that bad, it’ll be over before you know it.”

She tilted his head up and kissed him, her chapped lips ghosting over his. With a hand under his jaw to hold him still, she kissed down his neck and lick her way back up. Her free hand went under his shirt to fondle his chest. Without meaning to, he moaned against her and arched his back. “Baby,” she murmured, kissing the space between his collarbones, “baby, it’ll be fine, baby…”

He put a hand around her back. Her flight suit was still cold from the Kentucky winter and he wondered what it would be like to fly, like she did. He loved her desperately, and Sam loved him, he knew, but he always felt like he was so much less than her. He felt kept, sometimes. He’d never gone to college and his life had always been about her, and he couldn’t even keep it together for her to do the thing she was meant to do.

She must have felt his shoulders hitching again, because she wrapped both arms around him and lifted him up. He wrapped his legs around her as she walked backwards and dropped down on the couch. He looked up at her and shifted so she could fit neatly between his legs, and she dropped her head and crashed their lips together.

“Are you trying to distract me?” he asked when he could finally pull himself away.

“Of course I am,” she said. He thought she was trying to look put upon but her gaze was too hungry for it to have any bite. “Don’t want my omega to be sad.” She pulled up his shirt and pressed hot kisses against the plane of his stomach. “Gotta take care of you, don’t I?” She started to undo his fly and pull his cock free, and he hated himself for it but he was already hard.

She licked her palm and rubbed it against his shaft. He sat up and pushed her back. “Sam, this is  _ serious-- _ ”

When he looked back up at her, she had shifted back, her head tilted like she was thinking. Then she stood up and started to take off her uniform. Boots first, thrown awkwardly off to the side, then her blouse and undershirt, beret out of her pocket and on the couch arm.

Then she grabbed a handful of his hair in one hand, gently but firm, and pulled him off the couch. She dragged him down until he was on his knees, then undid her fly to pull out her cock. He wanted to glare at her, but she was so close--

“Nothing for an omega’s troubles like their Alpha’s cock,” she purred. 

He tried to twist away as she pushed her cock towards his face, but she held his hair firm. He wondered briefly if she was going to force him, he wasn’t in the mood, but she just brushed the soft head against his lips. She let go of his hair and sat down on the couch, lounging back with her legs spread and her cock jutting out of the fly of her uniform. “Why don’t you come here?” she asked.

He crawled over to her, hating his biology for making him give in so easily but grateful because she was right, it would be better. He knelt in front of her and leaned in, and her smell was overwhelming. She hadn’t even done anything, really, the company was on half-days until they deployed, she shouldn’t smell so good but God she  _ did. _

He swallowed the head of her cock and she groaned loudly. Her hand went to back of his head but only sat lightly down, not grabbing or forcing. He pulled off slowly, running his tongue along her frenulum and then darting his tongue across the tip to taste the single drop of precome.

He looked up her. She had leaned her head against the couch with the arm not touching him slung up on the back. “Fuck, baby, you’re so good to me,” she groaned. “Dunno what I’m gonna do without you all year--”

He wrapped his hand around the base of her cock and pulled his lips back. “You’re gonna Skype, aren’t you?”

She pushed the back of his head gently, not forcing so much as asking. He wrapped his mouth around her again. “Yeah, when I’m somewhere with internet. Promise. Like last time. Take me deeper?”

Just her asking, his Alpha asking to be pleased, had him dropping somewhere primal. He started to realize that he was soaking his underwear, his cunt throbbing with the need to be filled. Quickly, he tore off his clothes, dropping them in a pile to the side. Then he was back to her cock, pressing sloppy kisses down one side and up the other, before he wrapped his mouth around it.

The first initial push was always uncomfortable, his throat always trying to reject her. It had taken him ages to learn to swallow her cock, the problem a mix of her size and his sensitive gag reflex. When her cock pressed against the back of his throat he still gagged reflexively. She groaned but looked at him, making sure he was okay. He made sure to keep his eyes on her as he tried again. This time he took his time, letting the weight of her cock fill his mouth as his tongue laved around her. Slowly, he pushed his head down, forcing his throat not to twitch.

She let out a guttural moan as the head slipped slowly down his throat. “Oh,  _ fuck-- _ ” she groaned. “Oh-h-h baby, fuck, I love it when you do that--”

He pulled slowly back, tongue tracing the vein. His own cock was twitching in sympathy, drooling pre-come down to the base, and he was so, so wet. 

When he looked up at her, she was looking down at him like a predator, her lips red from where she had bitten them. The grin she had looked positively evil. Suddenly he was weak-kneed and fragile, wanting his Alpha to overpower him and own him.

“That’s enough,” she growled. “Come up here and sit on my cock.”

He moved to straddle her lap but before he could sink down, she slid two fingers into his open, wet cunt. She twisted her hand sharply, brushing against his walls, until he was a moaning, twitching mess. She withdrew her fingers and slid them into his ass, his own slick easing the way.

He sank down on her cock, and it was too much, it was always too much. She was big all over, and even as aroused he was, it still took time to adjust. The fingers in his ass didn’t help the situation. He sank down slowly, inch by rigid inch, almost sobbing with the feeling, until he finally bottomed out.

She curled and scissored open the fingers in his ass and he twitched compulsively, moaning as his cunt spasmed and tightened around her cock. “Is this enough for my omega?” she asked playfully.

He tilted his hips forward, feeling his own cock sliding against her belly as she filled him up. “It’s  _ so  _ good,” he moaned. 

It had always been good with her, in a way that he had used to find suspicious. With his two partners in high school, both betas, he had wondered if he would ever enjoy sex or if the vague sense of dissatisfaction was normal. She had changed everything for him, and he was sure it wasn’t just because she was his Alpha.

She grinned and rolled her hips, jostling him enough to get him moving. 

It was nice being on top of her and being able to set the pace. Normally she did all the work and he was happy to let her. What were those Army muscles for, after all? But being on top let him go slower than she was interested in. Left to her own devices she would fuck him raw, leaving him sore and fucked out and, on one unfortunate occasion following her second deployment, in need of stitches.

He shifted until he found a good position and lifted himself up. He half expected her to slam up into him from below but instead she kept still and let him slowly lower himself back down. It was easier now, her cock coated in his slick, and he slowly increased the pace until she started making breathy little moans.

She leaned down to nip and tongue at his bite mark until he shuddered. He never failed to fall apart when she did it. Tonight, three days out from her deployment, it made him think of when she had marked him during their first desperate rut. He had been underneath her, exhausted from another orgasm, only able to wrap his arms around her and let her work. Distantly, he had realized her mouth had been on his neck, teeth against where she would mark him, trying so hard to keep herself from biting. He had said  _ yes _ and she had stared at him, shocked, for so long he thought he hadn’t understood her. Then her teeth broke his skin and he had known that she would always be home for him.

She rarely broke the skin these days unless she was drunk, but she chewed on him in a way that told him she wanted to. The skin under her lips burned and he could feel the indentation of every tooth. He nodded and he felt white-hot pain where her teeth cut into him. His cock throbbed as he moaned into her hair. When she let go of him he fell bonelessly against her.

She kissed the mark. When she leaned back he could see where blood had smeared against her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick them clean but she only managed to spread the blood around.

She thrust up hard into him, her hips lifting off the couch to drive him up. He leaned back and put his hands just above her knees, trying to get the right leverage to fuck back against her. When she thrust again he met her halfway, and the collision of her body against him made him moan loudly. 

From there he was content to let her take charge. He still felt light-headed and warm from the bite mark. He could barely remember why he had been so upset, his mind lost in the instinctual place where his submission to his Alpha was the only thing that mattered.

She settled back down on the couch and grabbed his hips hard in both hands, drawing him back and forth. He quickly fell into a rhythm, finding the angle where he could best feel her cock sliding against his walls and stretching him open. Abruptly, he moaned as she slid her fingers back inside him now that she didn’t have to grab him. The other hand moved to palm his cock, her hand moving back and forth with the rhythms of her thrusts.

“Close,” she warned, and that was fine because he was too. His whole body felt tense and hot and it would only take one more thing to drive him over the edge.

She fucked up into him hard and he could feel her knot starting to catch. One thrust came cleanly out but back in with some difficulty. The second, she could only pull out partway. Then, as her knot popped into him a final time and locked them together, she gave the hand on his cock a twist and shoved a third finger in his ass, and he came so hard his vision went black. He bent backwards almost in half as she bucked her hips and he felt wave after wave of her come inside him, his own release roping on her stomach.

When his vision cleared up, she had leaned farther back into the couch and pulled him so that he was resting on top of her. He felt comfortable like this, taken care of, when he could feel her arms possessively around him, and was glad she had knotted him the way she had. 

“Do you feel better?” she asked gently.

Better. He had forgotten he felt bad. Before he could stop it, his mind had jumped off from that point and quickly went back to why he was worried earlier, then into other, worse fears. Before he knew it he was crying hysterically into her shoulder, the post-orgasm hormones switching abruptly from calmness to panic. She rubbed his head gently, trying to keep his hips still so he wouldn’t hurt himself on her knot, murmured against him, “Get it out, baby.”

“What if something happens to you?” he demanded.

She shrugged, her acceptance of the unknowability of her fate making her indifferent. She practiced a kind of radical death acceptance that he hated, even knowing that she needed it. She couldn’t keep flying missions, keep deploying, if she was afraid of death. “If it happens, it happens,” she said.

“What if you find another omega?” There weren’t many omegas who enlisted, and most of them were in jobs that kept them stateside, but there were some in her unit. Even another of the pilots, a rare find in a group traditionally full of aggressive, daring Alphas.

“I won’t,” she said.

“What if you  _ do? _ ”

“I  _ won’t _ ,” she growled. She was very rarely angry at him, and he hated when she was, because every fiber of his being wanted to fix it, to be good, to make her happy, that was what omegas  _ do _ for their Alphas. But she settled quickly. “I never have and I never will.”

“But--”

“I still think you should join the spouse’s club.”

He sighed against her, knowing where this would be going. “I told you, that’s just backstabbing clique bullshit. It’s nothing but gossipy omegas and no one likes each other because they all think their Alphas will get stolen. I hate it.”

“Yeah, but there’s got to be one omega there who would be worth it,” she said. “A year is a long time. I don’t want you to do it alone.” She made a barking kind of laugh, and he looked up to see her grinning sardonically. “What if you find another Alpha? Gonna let some tough Alpha knot you while I’m gone and you’re desperate to be filled up?”

“I would  _ never _ \--” he began, but she cut him off.

“You know I don’t care. As long as they’re gone when I’m back and you’re not knocked up by some strange, you know I don’t mind if you get your needs met.” She was smiling in a way that implied that round two wasn’t off the table.

He growled against her throat and she moved her hand to rub his hair, making a deep noise in her chest that she knew calmed him. “Baby…” she murmured against him. “It’s all gonna be okay, baby.”

“Dammit, Samantha,” he sighed.

But he let himself be comforted. God knew he needed it, this close to her going to a warzone  _ again. _ He liked the smell of his Alpha fucked out and calmed, liked the noise she was making in her chest, liked the security of being held and knotted, that he couldn’t get away from her if he wanted to. 

He was going to have to do without for a year.

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place in January 2008 and absolutely was not drawn directly from my experiences in the Army.


End file.
